


Blood For Katolis

by Arasia_Valentia



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Aaravos Being a Little Shit (The Dragon Prince), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Help, Manipulation, Mild Blood, Mild Language, Minor Violence, Past Relationship(s), Viren Being Viren (The Dragon Prince), Viren Tries His Best (The Dragon Prince), might add optional smut later, tbh idk how to tag this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26844358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arasia_Valentia/pseuds/Arasia_Valentia
Summary: How much?”For a moment I don’t understand. “What?”He furrows his eyebrows, lips dropping into a disapproving frown. “How much is your contract? I will double it.” He glances me up and down.My arms drop to my sides. “What? Why?”“Just answer the question.”“Eight hundred gold,” I answer with skepticism.“I will buy off your contract, as well as pay for your services. You will be, let’s say, my spy,” he says to me.——————-Feryth was given a contract on the life of an elven assassin. She did not expect to meet a man who offered a different path. Nor did she expect the feelings she developed. But stories like these never have a happy ending. Or do they?
Relationships: Viren/OC
Kudos: 6





	1. Assassinating an Assassin?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I’ve never written a fanfic with an OC before but I just couldn’t get this out of my head.
> 
> I tried my best to make it as cannon as possible. I’ve taken the show and the Season One Book and combined them both to create a timeline that makes sense. I also use quotes and other things from both in order to create the image of Viren that I see. 
> 
> I do not own the art book, so anything here is based on snippets I’ve seen or book descriptions/the show.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this, and even if you don’t like Viren, I hope you give it a chance so you might see the in depth study I’ve done of his character.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big shout out to Dayah99 for their help and conversation!

The night is silent as death, still and tense like an ancient crypt. The moon hangs lazily in the sky, fat but not quite full, casting opaque rays of waning light dancing across the stones of Castle Katolis. The air is heavy on my shoulders, tinged with fear and sorrow; vibrating with anxiety that hangs stale in the wind. The slumped postures of the odd patrol that pass me by speak of a deep weariness; whispering of the most paramount of failures. The King of Katolis is dead, slain by elven hands bathed in moontouched shadow. A crimson bird of death flew across the sky, heralding the demise of King Harrow one night prior. It was shot by the last elf standing, fulfilling the promise made to the Dragon Queen, Zubeia. 

I shake my head quietly. Figures the plan couldn’t go smoothly, and one of them _had _to cling to life after he shot the arrow into the sky. Not that I’m really complaining. The contract was a surprise, delivered by bird with nothing but a promissory note of a handsome sum. A risky mission, but killing people is nothing new, and money is money. If I have to gut some random elf for coin then so be it. It’s not often I get a contract for a mercy kill, and in all honesty I’m shocked that people already know of the elfs survival. Whoever they are they did not think their identity important. But I don’t get paid to ask questions.__

____

____

My leather clad feet make little sound as I slip about the battlements, searching the towering castle walls for a way in. It’s been barely a full day since the assassination and already the castle is shut up tighter than a window against a winter storm. I click my tongue with annoyance and sidle my way around a large stack of barrels. Not a single window or door ajar. The people of Katolis, afforded only broken information and no time to mourn, are bound by fear and panic. Their paranoia makes my job so much harder. I reach into the pouch hanging at my side, cold fingers fumbling to find the metal tin I haphazardly stashed away not hours before. After a beat, I latch onto the container, yanking it out with a triumphant huff of air. The cap screws off easily to reveal its black, sticky contents. Tar for climbing. Rarely do I use it, but in such situations as this it’s helpful. I slip off my boots, folding them and stashing them into the pouch, before I reach into it. The tar coats my fingers in giant globs, and I smear it across my toes and the ball of my foot. I rub it into my fingers, liberally coating them before I messily shove the top back on and toss it in beside my shoes. 

I grab onto the wall before me, sticky fingers finding easy purchase on the ragged stonework. I dig the toes of my right foot into the crevices of the wall, the muscles in my back and arms flexing hard as I pull myself up and flush against the stone. My left foot comes to rest above and slightly to the side of my right. I reach up and push, my right hand and foot leaving the wall in unison as I climb. One methodical move after another I shimmy my way up the tower. It’s slow work and the higher I go the smoother the stone gets, battered and weathered by years of exposure. The wind blows harshly, numbing my exposed flesh, causing tears to sting my eyes as I heave myself higher. My fingers ache as I scurry my way across the rough surface. A gust of air suddenly rips at my form, and I gasp, pulling myself tight against the stones. My feet slip at the sudden movement and dislodge from their holds. I scramble for purchasing, hanging precariously from my finger tips for a terrifying moment. I search for a hold, toes scrabbling against the stone before I feel a crack, slamming them into place. My breath comes in panicked gasps, pulse roaring thunderously through my ears, heart galloping in my chest. I rest my forehead on my arm, peering out from under it as more wind swirls around me, eyes flicking to glance down below. My vision swims at the sight. I quickly avert my eyes and screw them shut. Holy hells that was close.

I shudder at the thought of my body dashed against the rampart’s wallwalk. One slip is all it takes. I was lucky this time, but what about the next? Or the one after that? I shake my head violently, banishing the image from my mind’s eye. 

“Stop being a wuss. Think of the money,” I whisper to myself, “think of all that damned money.”

My trek begins again, arms and legs moving in a methodical pattern as I climb. After what seems like an eternity, I grab onto a ledge, pulling myself up and tucking myself into the small alcove as I grasp around my bag for the metal tin to reapply the tar to my hands and feet. I can already feel my skin tearing and blistering under the black goop, but I ignore the pain with gritted teeth. I peek up the wall, checking my proximity to the top. I’m three fourths of the way up, seated in a small windowsill. If I get up there and the entrance to the castle isn’t open, or the lock too difficult to pick, I’ll have wasted most of the night on a futile effort. On the other hand, my only other options are to break a window at the risk of being caught, try to find a way underneath the castle, or return to my employer with word of my failure. All three of these most certainly lead to death, and well, I quite like living. 

Resolve bolstered with more thoughts of my untimely demise, I grab onto the protruding upper lip of the windowsill and put my legs on either side of the space. I push hard, and pull myself out from the opening. My arms shake with the effort, and my grip almost loosens before I reign my muscles in. 

“Money, money, money,” I chant angrily, pulling myself together, and up once more. 

I cover the remaining ground swiftly, at last grasping the edge of the parapet, heaving myself over to tumble unceremoniously onto the ground. My feet burn, and my fingers throb in hot, stinging waves of pain. I grunt at the aches, but push myself to my feet nonetheless, surveying my surroundings. A single torch casts muted orange light about the small space. A solitary hatch lays embedded within the stone. I creep closer to it, studying it in the moonlight. No padlock, no keyhole, nothing. It’s an unlocked entrance into the castle. I let out a relieved huff of laughter. Thank the stars for small miracles. Rolling out my boots, I pull them onto my feet, the smallest remnants of tar catching on the leather. 

I crouch down and grab the trap door handle and pull. With a deafening squeal the hatch opens. I wince at the sound, pausing to listen if I have alerted someone. My ears strain to hear, but all that greets me is silence. I hear nothing, not even the echo of the steel clad boots worn by the guard. After a few long, tense minutes, I ease myself into the hole, swinging down into the darkness. My feet hit the ground with a soft thump, boots sinking into what I can only assume is a rug. The hatch slams shut, and I’m left in complete darkness. I crouch, trying to make myself smaller while I wait for my eyes to adjust. 

It doesn’t take long. Soon, I’m able to make out the pointed edges of a table, draped in tattered cloth. Dust and cobwebs have gathered on the furniture in the room, and I sniff the air with interest. Mold and rot assault my senses. It seems no one has been in here in quite some time. I slink towards the towering archway that separates the room from a spiraling staircase that descends into darkness. I tongue the back of my teeth, contemplating my next moves. 

During the day, with a few bribes and a bit of eavesdropping I was able to determine the High Mage had most likely taken the remaining elf prisoner and found out the general location of his chambers. Which, judging from where I climbed up, is a ways away. Creeping around in the darkness for a bit was fine, but the hallways were bound to be patrolled, and relatively empty of cover. The other assassin’s managed it, albeit on a night their powers were at their strongest. An idea flashes into my mind at the thought of the Moonshadow elves.

I rummage around in my pack for a moment, trying to locate the sturdy jar I stashed my components in. It’s hard to find in the dark, but eventually I fish out the vessel, peering blearly at its contents. A Shadowpaw eye and a pinch of Moonshadow elf horn should do the trick. I collect them, taking out a small mortar and pestle, crushing the contents into dust. I slice my finger on my dagger, letting the blood drip into the bowl and coat the fine powder before I chant. 

“Krad eht ecreip seye ym wodahs ni dekaolc!”

I hiss as the magic draws from me, channeling through my blood and into my body. My eyes burn, the world growing blinding for just a moment, before everything turns to the brightness of day. I glance at my body, content to see a slight transparent quality to my skin, the shadows of the room seemingly hugging my frame. With a satisfied nod, I place the items back into my pack and carefully begin my trek down the stairs. The castle is quiet and still, but with my magic I make no sound to disturb the night. Slowly I creep toward the chambers of the High Mage, trekking the halls as carefully possible. I dodge past the odd patrol, skirting the edges of the carpeted hallway, using the gently fluttering tapestries for cover if need be. I ascend a spiral staircase, emerging into a small hallway. My heightened vision starts to dim as I finally reach what I believe is the High Mage’s chambers. 

The door is surprisingly plain, brown wood planks surrounded by a solid border of lighter color. There are inlays within the planks, but with my spell waning I waste no time with idle fancies, instead identifying the lock. I smirk with satisfaction when my gaze lands on it. Not the simplest lock, but there was never a basic ward lock I couldn’t open. I slip my picks from their hiding place, a small channel sewn into the cuff of my leather bracers, and select the L-shaped pick. I slip it into the keyhole, moving it with practiced precision. With a jiggle and a twist the door unlocks with a small sound. I put away my picks and push open the door, slipping through. The hinges are well oiled, and barely make a sound as I shut the door behind me. 

Moon pours in from a large window set in the far right wall, casting light over the room. I’ve entered what I can only assume is a study, books and parchments strewn haphazardly across tables and chairs. A large bookshelf dominates most of the room, bulging tomes lining its shelves. A golden glint catches my eye as I slink further into the room, feet sinking into a plush rug of red and gold. A waning fire warms my back, embers dying in a large stone fireplace. But I ignore it, the gold tugging me forward as if I am a fish caught on a hook. I feel _something _, a thrum deep in my bones. I stand before a large black sheet, fluttering slightly even though there is no breeze. I grab the cloth and pull. It tumbles to the ground, pooling around my feet in a heap. I suck in a breath at the sight of what stands before me.__

____

____

A beautiful mirror glows in the moonlight, shining brighter than any star. Runes are etched into its trim, surrounding the glass in arching swathes of gold. I feel something sweep over me, prodding at my mind, _calling _out to me. My head grows fuzzy and warm, power thrumming through my veins like a siren song as I reach out and touch the mirror. Promises wash through me, a dark and ancient presence pressing at my thoughts. I jerk away at the caress against my mind, startling myself out of the trance. Something sinister lies in that mirror. Even as I resist it’s power, the pull is ever present. I back away, putting as much distance as I can between me and it before I survey the rest of the room. Books, experiments, large tables, tapestries, but no High Mage.__

____

____

With a frustrated sigh, I turn my gaze up, studying a painting of two men. One has rich brown skin, and emerald eyes that swim with kindness, a golden crown of resting upon his head. His clothes are a rich and deep red and terribly fine. With his attire and crown I can only assume that this must be the former king. A man stands beside him, gray eyes piercing the canvas. He has high cheekbones, jaw set firm and framed by a beard of light russet brown. A small smile rests on his lips, and his eyes shine with pride. He wears robes of deep black and gray, inlaid with gold threading and a purple gem resting at his throat. This must be the High Mage. He definitely looks the part. And he definitely is not here. I sigh, turning my eyes to the second painting in the room.

By contrast this painting is just, well, odd. A young girl with rosy cheeks and pudgy hands holds a small, fluffy sheep aloft. She stands against a backdrop of flowers and foliage, a look of innocence shining on her face. This really does not go with the aesthetic of the room. Where the room is covered in deep rich colors, this painting is a random spot of brightness. Could it be? I shake my head as I take long strides towards it, banishing the thought of a secret door, but still not quite believing my own doubt. I grab the frame, and pull. The left side gives way, swinging open to reveal, to my astonishment, a hidden passage. 

“Really?” I mutter under my breath as I take a step into the hidden hall. “This is the most stereotypical dark mage thing I have ever seen. A hidden passage in an ugly painting. Honestly!”

The painting swings shut behind me as I pull on it, enveloping myself in darkness once more. A faint light shines from up ahead, so I carefully trek my way toward it, emerging to a crossroads of passages. Blue crystals shine brightly in little etched out hollows along the walls. One leads straight, one right, and one left. The left one descends into a stairway. I turn left, walking to peer down the steps. Torches line the wall in metal sconces, disappearing into the belly of the castle. Without any information to go on but to look for a prisoner, and by association a dungeon, I begin my descent. The staircase is long and narrow, winding around and around. The farther I walk the surer I am of its intended destination. By the time I reach level ground, the stones are cold and damp. The smell of mold tingles my nostrils as I walk down a long hallway, coming to a stop before a dead end.

A small chain dangles beside me, and with no other option, I pull on it. The wall gives way with a soft creek. I push on the stones, and the wall turns as if a top, revealing a dimly lit room. I slip inside, satisfaction glowing in my stomach as I take in the cells and chains surrounding me. A sly grin works its way onto my face. Now I only needed to find my prey. I adjust my hood so it casts shadows on my face, before I begin to check the cells one by one. It’s not a large dungeon, so it doesn’t take me long to locate the elf in question. 

His pale hair almost glows with an ethereal light in the dimly lit dungeon. He hangs from the wall, strung up by iron chains, arms held high and wide above his head. One arm is mottled with black and blue bruising, a woven white band tightly constricting the limb. Even like this, forced to bend on his knees, one horn broken and skin littered with wounds, he looks proud. All Moonshadow elves did. The door is open, so I slip in with practiced ease. The elf’s head snaps up at my entrance, despite me making no sound. Their heightened awareness was always uncanny, and it would be a lie to say I was not jealous. His eyes are a beautiful teal blue, and they search my form as I stand before him.

“Who are you?” He asks, voice quiet and gravelly.

I smirk. “That depends dear. I could be considered your salvation, or I could very well be your demise.” I shrug at him delicately. “Your choice.”

He gives me a calculated glance, before lowering his gaze to the ground and closing his eyes solemnly. “It matters not what you have in store, for I am already dead. You cannot do worse than that.”

I scoff at him, swiping back my hood. My red hair glows like fire in the torchlight, and I crouch before him, jerking his chin up so he can look me in the eyes. “You stupid Moonshadow elves. Always with your already dead philosophy. It really takes the fun out of things. I am here for a mercy kill, elf. Take it or leave it I care not,” I tighten my hold, “for I _will _be paid for you.”__

____

____

I release him, pushing his face away, standing up and stepping back. For the first time since I’ve met him, the elf has shock written on his face. It quickly gives way to disgust. “A half breed. I should’ve known. Only someone tainted with human blood would kill for such a base thing as coin.”

I resist the urge to reach up and hide my ears, the only defining feature of my elven heritage. My mother had been a human, captured at sea by tidebound elves. They took interest in her, but she never explained why in the letter she left me. For a while she lived amongst them, learned their ways, their culture. But the moment she became with child they cast her out, banishing her back to the human side of the border. Alone and destitute she offered to sell me to a group of men as a laborer once I was born. I never met her or my father. My only memories are that of threadbare clothes on my back and the bite of winter as I froze out in the fields. I shake the memories away. It doesn’t matter anymore. 

“Yes,” I sneer at him, “a lowly halfbreed. How awful. You elves act all high and’ mighty, lucky with the circumstances of your birth. If anything you are worse than humans, for no elf has ever shown me kindness.”

I unsheathe my dagger, the sharpened iron edge glinting. “This filthy halfbreed, as you call me, will be the one to end your miserable existence,” I hiss.

Before the elf can respond, a voice interrupts. “I think not.”

I whirl around, my other dagger flying into my hand. I crouch defensively and examine the newcomer. Grey eyes pierce the darkness. Familiar eyes. I do not drop my guard, but I plaster a pleasant smile onto my face. “Ah, High Mage, a pleasure to meet you. Sorry to derail your plans, but I really must kill this elf.”

He raises a chiseled eyebrow at me as his eyes study my form. They pause on my ears but he makes no comment on them as he meets my gaze with hardened determination. “As I said, you will not. I need this elf very much alive, you see. For...personal reasons.”

It’s my turn to quirk a brow, “Oh I’m terribly sorry to inconvenience you. I’ll just bugger off then, so you two can have tea. Oh, wait, no I won’t. Because if his blood isn’t spilling, I’m not getting paid,” I say to him with dripping sarcasm. “I like getting paid.”

“Then it seems we are at an impasse.” He responds, hand tightening on his staff.

I hum in agreement, but make no comment as I bring the blade of my dagger across my arm in a shallow slash. The man’s eyes widen at my actions, caught off guard. I smear it into my palm and grip my dagger tightly. The incantation leaves my lips with lightning speed. 

“Hself rednet ecreip ot sneprahs leets ,doolb ni dehtab.”

My daggers begin to glow with an eerie red light as the magic drags on my soul. I grit my teeth, grimacing at the sensation. Using my blood as a conduit made the cost of dark magic less, but I could never quite get over the feeling of the darkness creeping inside of me. I point a dagger at the man and give him a feral grin. “Are you sure you want to do this? It could end very badly for you. That would please me greatly. Two kills in one night.”

The man does not respond. Instead he looks at me with wide eyes, twinkling with a sudden interest. He opens his mouth, then shuts it again, bringing his unoccupied hand to stroke his beard. After a beat of silence he speaks. “How much?”

For a moment I don’t understand. “What?”

He furrows his eyebrows, lips dropping into a disapproving frown. “How much is your contract? I will double it.” He glances me up and down. 

My arms drop to my sides. “What? Why?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Eight hundred gold,” I answer with skepticism.

His eyebrows raise in shock, lips parting a bit in surprise. I smirk. “It’s a high risk mission.” He gives me an appraising look before nodding. 

“I will buy off your contract, as well as pay for your services. You will be, let’s say, my spy,” he says to me.

I almost drop my daggers in shock. Sixteen hundred gold, to leave the elf alive and serve this man as a spy? My mind buzzes with excitement, the possibilities flashing through my mind. It’s an attractive offer, but I’ve been in this business long enough to question everything.

“Why? What need could you possibly have for me? Not to mention, your kind hates elves, you couldn’t possibly work with me on equal terms,” I say, voicing my suspicions, “Do you even have that kind of money? I know the human kingdoms have fallen on hard times. Eight years ago, you could barely feed your people, how am I to believe you can even afford me?”

The High Mage sets his jaw, frowning deeply at my questions. “You have... _valid _concerns, however, albeit unneeded. I can assure you it will be no trouble. You will be paid.” He pauses, eyes unreadable as he contemplates his next words. I cock my head, raising my eyebrows at him for further elaboration. He grimaces slightly. “As for what I require you for, well, in these turbulent times I have need of unwavering loyalty. If I pay you, I will have yours.”__

____

____

“In other words, you have enemies abound and need someone who won’t blink at your actions? Naughty, naughty, High Mage,” I tease with a smirk, marveling at how he immediately stiffens at my words. What a wound up man. “I _suppose _I could be coerced to turn a blind eye and cooperate fully,” I pause for dramatic effect, watching the High Mage’s eyes sparkle with triumph, “given one circumstance.” The light immediately drains from his eyes, replaced with deep annoyance.__

____

____

“And what would that be?” He questions flatly.

“Components,” I reply. “You are a dark mage, a prominent one at that. I want spell components on, say, a daily basis, starting with him.” I gesture to the Moonshadow elf behind me. “A lock of hair by day break, and half the payment up front, and I am all yours.”

The man studies me momentarily, flicking his eye to his prisoner. The Moonshadow elf glares at me, a snarl on his lips. “You are a terrible woman, halfbreed,” the elf spits out at me, “you will reap what you sow.” I dismiss him with a wave of my hand.

“Please, as if I haven’t heard it a thousand times. If I must be a monster to thrive then so be it. The fact remains one of us is not bound in chains, on the verge of death; and both of us kill for a living. Think what you will,” I say to him, turning my attention back to the High Mage, who studies our exchange with interest. “Well, what say you?”

He nods at me, a grim look on his face. “Yes, I agree. It will be done.” I smile at him, sheathing my daggers and stepping close. He tenses at my sudden movement, but does not shy away. I stick out my hand, still covered in blood. “Pleasure to do business with you then. You may call me Feryth Lauthien, half-elf, assassin by trade, and overall practitioner of magic.”

The man takes my hand in a firm grasp and says, “Lord Viren, High Mage of Katolis.”

I grin brightly, a small spring in my step as I release his hand and brush past him. “Let us return to your study, Viren, and iron out the details.” And with that I disappear back into the secret passageway, letting myself slip back into darkness. I hear Viren let out an exasperated sigh, and the sound of his feet marching across the stone to follow. I smirk to myself at his reluctance. This will be so much fun.


	2. A Noble’s Life for me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feryth settles into her role as a Dark Mage noblewoman, and a coronation goes awry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2. It’s been a minute, and I’ll be honest, I’m not actively working on this, but I haven’t forgotten it either. It will get updated, just not with much frequency. In fact, in the future I may pull from this, as I already have with the main character, for the book I’m writing. Please enjoy nonetheless.
> 
> As always no beta, we die like men. Sorry for typos and such.

Warm rays of sun filter into the room, streaming through a large bay window, sending patterns of dappled shadows scattering across the floor. My skin glows in the daylight, porcelain white like the finest swathes of silk. For a moment I enjoy the heat, letting it spread over my limbs. It’s a beautiful day, and yet…. I look at myself in the mirror, wholly unamused. I’m dressed in rippling silks, jewels dangling off the fabric and clinking together in a soft melody every time I move. The dress cascades to the floor, the front ending just at my feet, the back continuing in a small train behind me. It’s a very beautiful dress, and terribly, terribly inconvenient.

“Absolutely not,” I say to the servant who is trying to wrestle the laces into submission. “This will not do at all!”

The woman looks at me with a pained expression, no doubt annoyed at my rejection. It’s the fourth such dress in as many hours, and to be honest I’m growing tired of this finery. She steps back and abandons tying up the dress. “But my lady,” she exclaims, “Lord Viren insisted we gather you a new wardrobe after yours was destroyed on your trek here. Whatever shall you wear if not any of these?!”

I scoff. “I could barely call these a wardrobe, however am I to move in those things? No, you will fetch me tunics or blouses, a leather bodice, and trousers, preferably riding trousers. I’ll have none of this… friviality.” 

The woman looks absolutely stricken at my request, but she scurries out of the room nonetheless. I sigh dejectedly, slipping the sleeves of the dress down my arms, letting it glide off my body and pool on the floor. Viren has determined a cover for me, and it’s quite an irksome one. I am a noblewoman from Duren who dabbles in dark magic. Allegedly, I met Viren as a fledgling practitioner. Dark mages are a small community, so he kept close contact to advise and train me. After hearing of my friend and mentor’s tragic loss, I came to comfort him, only to be brutally robbed on the road by elven bandits. Alas this means I must gather a new wardrobe, and apparently, noblewomen think themselves fancy mannequins that simply must be drowned in silks. I shake my head and collapse into a chair, swinging my leg over the side. My shift resists the movement, stretching to wrap tightly around my thighs. 

I look at myself sidelong in the mirror. My ice blue eyes shine back at me, bright and lined with kohl. The scar over my right eye is gone, replaced with smooth and supple skin. Freckles dance across my nose and cheeks, a relic of my youth that faded over the years. It’s been so long since I have had freckles,so long in fact that the smattering of them across my face is foreign to me. I reach up to touch my rounded ears, marveling at the feel of their non-pointed flesh. After our negotiations Viren showed me his terrarium of Sunray Monarchs, and cast an illusion to make me look human. With that in place we set our plan into motion, with a theatrical display of me arriving disheveled and bloody at the castle gates. After hours of mock concern and settling me into rooms close to his, Viren left me to the devices of the servants. And now here I sit, utterly bored, and terribly tired of all the posturing. 

I move to play with one of my braids, idly twisting it about my fingers. A knock sounds at the door. Another bustling ninny of a servant no doubt. I pout. “Enter,” I declare after a beat. The person who comes in is not a servant. A girl no older than 16 walks into the room, breezing past the discarded dresses to stand next to me. “Hello!” She exclaims, green eyes wide with excitement. A bundle of clothes sits in her arms. I glance at her, and then down to them. She notices and gives an awkward chuckle. 

“Oh, yeah, I was told you need practical clothes, and well, not to say we are the same size, your size is great, but I thought maybe something I had would fit you, so I decided to come see!” she says, the jumble of words tumbling out of her mouth. She doesn’t even pause to take a breath. “I hope that wasn’t too presumptuous of me, I just heard you were my dad’s friend so I had to meet you, and thought, why not bring clothes while I’m at it?” She pauses, dropping the clothes into a pile in the bay window behind my chair.

“I’m Claudia by the way, nice to meet you. Uh, Viren is my dad. I don’t know if you’ve met Soren, but he’s my brother!” She outstretches a hand in my direction. I’m still reeling from the bombardment, trying to decipher her not quite sentences, but I extend a hand regardless. “Feryth,” I answer, “it’s a pleasure.”

The girl grins at me turning to face the clothes she put down. Her hair, a shiny black with stained purple tips, swings wildly as she does so. She places her hand on her hips and observes the pile. “Well,” she declares, “I’m sure you’ll find something in this! Don’t worry about returning anything that doesn’t fit, I'll send someone to pick them up later!” She glances at me and her eyes fall on my shift. Her mouth shapes a soft “O” of surprise, a flush crawling across her face and down her neck. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that you were.. well..” she averts her gaze with these words, “not dressed.” I glance down at my attire. It’s just some undergarments and a chemise. 

“I’ll let you get changed. Maybe we could talk later? It’s not often I meet other Dark Mages!” She looks me intently in the eyes, obviously flustered by my partial nudity, smiling slightly as she backs out of the room. 

“Of course,” I say, standing to move towards the clothes she deposited. 

“Great!” She exclaims, and hurries out the door.

I sigh, rifling through the garments. After some time I finally settle on a low-cut blouse with long sleeves, riding trousers, and a fitted leather bodice. I glance out the window as I slip the pants onto my legs. The sun hangs high in the sky, soaring through fluffy white clouds that flit happily across an expanse of baby blue. It has been a few hours since my “arrival” and the day has passed quickly in the time I spent trying on dress after dress. I remove my shift, donning the shirt and wrapping my torso in the bodice. I do up the strings while I walk towards the door. Luckily, I was able to smuggle in my boots. They are made of sturdy leather, supple on the inside and strong on the outside. I’ve owned them for years, and they are far more worn than I would like. But I could never get rid of them. I bought them with the money I made from my first kill. I smile at the thought with a bit of pride.

He was a pudgy thing of a man, sweaty and disgusting. Greased up like a pig going to slaughter, red faced and bulbous, the man was gluttony incarnate. He was kidnapping young children to sell to the wealthy for, “entertainment”, as he put it. I made sure to entertain myself when I cut him groin to chin. Not all of my contracts have been on degenerates, but there is added reward for killing those that are. I slip on a pair of long stockings and pull my boots onto my feet. With one last glance in the mirror, I exit my room.

My chambers are not far from Viren’s study and his own, so close in fact that it is a mere stroll down the hall. Last I saw him, he wished to meet at midday, although it is not quite that time yet, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind me rifling around in his books. I smile meanly to myself. He would in fact, hate me going about his things, but what is life without a little adventure? The thought of his annoyance puts a spring in my step, so much so that I barely restrain myself from skipping through the doors of his study. The man himself is not here, and I deflate a little in disappointment. I shuffle over to the large bookshelf I observed last night and study the tomes that line it. Nothing catches my eye until I come across a small leather book with intricate gold leaf swirling down its spine. I gingerly remove it from the shelf, turning it over to read the title. It’s in Draconic, but I know enough to slowly translate it into the common tongue. 

“Theory of Primal Magics,” I say aloud, flipping the book open to the first page. I walk over to settle into a chair by the window, curling my legs under myself as I scan the first page. The words are worn and the pages brittle, the edges curling ever so slightly. Slowly I decipher the words. As a halfbreed I never really studied my arcanum in depth, nor have I chosen to look deeper into my innate magic. I know I can manipulate water, and have done so in the past. It was easier for me to use my own blood for dark magic, the inherent connection to magic amplifying the effects as well as dampening the consequences. I flip through the pages, drinking in the knowledge. It’s fascinating to read, although the more advanced words and intricacies are lost upon me. 

A part of me always wished to know more of my magic, of my heritage. Fate, however, is a terribly cruel mistress. The only thing I knew until my 14th summer was exhaustion, hunger, and cold winter nights. I remember the evenings I shivered so hard my teeth chattered; mornings where I woke with frost coating my hair and lashes. And in the summer, the sweltering sun beat down on my head as I toiled the soil and planted the crops. One year I almost died of heatstroke, but the other laborers got me inside and into water fast enough. I wonder, sometimes, what life would’ve been like if I lived amongst the elves, and learned the ways of primal magic with them. But that’s in the past, and there is nothing I can do about it. Why focus on the ghosts of your past when those of your future are yet to be found? I sigh, and return to the page I was reading.

_...Primal Magics, better known as Arcanum, come in six different varieties. The Sun, the Moon, the Earth, the Sky, the Ocean, and the Stars. Few people have learned all six, and even fewer have mastered them. These beings are called Archmages, and are the highest one can reach- ___

__“You enjoy reading?” a voice asks. I practically jump out of my skin, jerking to a standing position so fast the book tumbles from my fingers. I wince as it lands face down on the floor with a dull thud. It is Viren who stands before me and gives me a curious look, one eyebrow raised to the heavens._ _

__“I don’t believe I've given you leave to be in here,” he says with a pointed look. I open my mouth to reply, but no sound comes out. I gape like a fish as he bends down, staff in hand, to pick the book off the floor. He leans the staff against the wall and turns the book over in both hands._ _

__“Ah,” he says, eyes scanning the book, “I remember this one. I bought it off a traveling merchant who claimed it to hold Xadian secrets.” He holds it out to me, and I quickly snatch it from his grasp. “My Draconic is a bit limited. It was of no use to me. Can you read it?”_ _

__“A little,” I say, finally pulling myself together. I was not expecting him to pop out of nowhere like that. His expression of interest prompts me to answer further. “I learned a bit, when I traveled through Xadia. I didn’t really have a place to stay, so a lot of the time I would camp out in the abandoned ruins or temples. The nights were bleak so I just, I don’t know, started teaching myself from scrolls and relics I found left behind, I guess.” I shrug a bit and hold the book against my body. “It’s nothing really special.”_ _

__Viren studies me with an appraising eye and glances down at the book. “That’s…” he pauses, searching for words. “Would you like to keep it?” he questions after a moment._ _

__“What?” I answer back dumbly._ _

__I watch as he holds in a sigh, motioning at the book I am clutching tightly to my chest. “The book. As I said, I cannot read it without great effort, it is worthless to me. It would serve better in your hands.”_ _

__I stare at him in confusion. “For free?” I say, barely above a whisper._ _

__This time Viren really does sigh. “Yes, Feryth, for free. Consider it… Consider it a gift of sorts.”_ _

__“Oh,” I breathe out, trying to keep the tremble from my voice, “I’ve never been given something so precious for free before, and never a gift. Nothing outside the necessities, I mean.”_ _

__Surprise flits across Viren’s face, both brows raising high. “Never?”_ _

__I shake my head, braids swinging with the movement. “I- No, not at all,” I say, “Thank you.”_ _

__Viren clears his throat awkwardly, turning to walk towards his desk. “You are welcome,” he says, sitting down in his chair. I follow him, gingerly holding my new possession in my hands. He motions for me to sit across from him, resting his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers. I pull up a chair and sit down. I place the book on the table beside me, and settle into my seat. Viren waits for me to finish moving, and regain a bit of face, before he begins to speak._ _

__“Tonight I plan to crown myself king,” he says. I raise my eyebrows at his words. “So soon?” I say._ _

__“Yes,” he replies, “In this time of crisis we must have a strong leader. Humanity needs someone to lead them out of the darkness.”_ _

__“And that is going to be you? What of the princes? Last I heard they weren’t killed.”_ _

__“No, they do not live. They were last seen with one of the assassins. We can only assume they have perished,” he says firmly, an edge of sorrow to his voice._ _

__“Even if he, Ezran, lived, that child is too naive. His father coddled him to no end since the moment of his birth. He would not have the wisdom nor the strength to do what is required!” He says vehemently. He pauses, wiping his hands down his face. “Neither did his father. If he did, he would not be...dead. We would not be where we are now.”_ _

__He hides the pain in his voice well, but I have trained for years to notice the subtleties of people’s emotions, and it does not escape me. “I am sorry about your friend you know,” I say to him, “I’m sure it pains you.”_ _

__Viren swallows hard, but his face betrays nothing but idle boredom. “He made his true feelings known in those final hours. I have come to terms.” I can tell he is lying, but I answer with a simple, “Of course.”_ _

__Silence descends for a moment, heavy with unspoken words. I clear my throat and continue with the matter at hand. “So, you will be crowned king, what then? From the talk I have heard, I’ve gathered the human kingdoms are under threat of siege. Elves gather at the border daily, attacking your troops with growing fervor, dragons have been sighted in border towns, and now assassin’s strike at your heart. Will it be war?” I question._ _

__Viren stares at me, face showing genuine respect for the first time since I’ve met him. “Correct. You are rather well informed,” he says. I shrug._ _

__“When you're in my profession information is the difference between life and death. Taverns are ripe with drunken soldiers, the outcasts of Elven society will always hand over their juicy details at the flash of gold, and sometimes you can gain the trust of those who have the leaders’ ear,” I shoot him a wolfish grin, “Kill enough people for someone and they generally don’t question your loyalty. A shame they forget I work for many people, and that one day it could be their blood across my blade.”_ _

__Viren gives me a withering glare. I chuckle in response. “Not you of course,” I say with a dismissive flap of a hand, “I don’t think anyone has paid me so much in my life. Besides, I happen to have a grudge against most elves. It would be enjoyable to see them knocked off their high horse for a moment.”_ _

__“You are not fond of your own kind?” Viren queries. I raise an eyebrow at him._ _

__“My own kind? Don’t forget my mother was human. I’m only partially an elf. I suppose it’s both of their faults that I worked the fields from my practical infancy as, most would agree, a slave,” I shake my head, “at least the older women cared for me, despite my elven lineage. They made sure my lashes didn’t fester, that I had just enough food to keep me on the verge of death, but not quite tasting it’s sweet embrace. No elf ever paid me kindness.”_ _

__His eyes grow hard at my words and I can tell they bother him, but for what reason I cannot tell. But he does not voice his thoughts, only waits for me to continue._ _

__I pick at my nails idly while I come up with my next words. “Elves, well, even though I share their blood they act like I’m a blight upon the land. Even when I killed for them, they treated me with barely restrained disgust that bordered on murderous.”_ _

__Viren strokes his beard with an idle finger at my words and replies, “So you prefer humans?”_ _

__I laugh. “Not by much, in all honesty humans are generally crueler in their actions. They have the ability to be so much worse than any elf. They feel, well, so fully. Humans have such short and fleeting lives, everything is like a whirlwind to them. They live, feel, and act, with such passion. But this means there are also those who have a great capacity for kindness and are more accepting of me,” I grin mischievously, “or those that are, let’s say, curious even.”_ _

__Viren’s neck flushes, but to his credit it does not travel to his face. His mouth twitches, and his eyebrows tilt down ever so slightly, the only indications my words have affected him in a way he doesn’t wish to show. I grin at his embarrassment, and stand from the chair._ _

__“Well,” I say, changing the subject. “You will be crowned King tonight, I will continue to be your steadfast friend, and we will convince the humans to fight back.” I walk over to the window, gazing down into the courtyard. Men in armor stroll about, practicing their sword work, horse riding, and other things. I hear Viren rise from his seat, and come to stand at my shoulder._ _

__“Yes,” he says, “I will name you a temporary advisor, I will call a summit of the Pentarchy, and we will show Xadia we will not lie down and die. Humanity _will _flourish without a knife at its neck.” I glance back at him, and he meets my gaze with steely resolve. “No matter the cost.” I smile wryly at him.___ _

____“For the greater good then. We will paint ourselves as villains in order to save the world. I like it.  
It has flair.” I say, turning to face him. The side of his mouth quirks with amusement at my words, and I feel a little thrill of accomplishment stir in my breast. “It does, doesn’t it?” he answers. _ _ _ _

____With that he turns and grabs his staff, marching towards the doors. I watch him as he walks, back straight and regal, every bit of a pompous arse. He opens the door and looks back at me. “Meet me in the throne room at sundown. And wear something that isn’t my daughter’s clothes.”_ _ _ _

____I smile sheepishly, “Noticed that did you?” He gives me a pointed look to emphasize his words before he whisks away through the doors. I sigh, walking to the bookshelf and pulling a few random tomes on dark magic down. I cradle them in the crook of my arm, grabbing the leather bound book I laid upon the table, and begin the trek to my room._ _ _ _

____His plan is ambitious, but it could very well work. With the people being in the dark as they are, and reeling from the loss of their king, and possibly their princes, the first thing on their mind other than mourning would be revenge. They could be easily swayed with words filled with conviction that suggest retaliation. The only problem is the princes. If they are found to be alive, and people wish for them to rule before tonight, that could cause issues for Viren, and by extension me. I contemplate searching for them and possibly ending the problem they present should they live, but the thought doesn’t sit right with me. They are simply children, as I was not too long ago. If they should be destined for death, it will not be at my hand. But I will not stop it either. Perhaps that makes me just as guilty? I shake my head at the thought. Now is not the time moral dilemmas or philosophical thought._ _ _ _

____I open the door to my room, surprised to see the maid from earlier sorting the clothes I requested into my wardrobe. I walk behind her, depositing the books onto the seat of the bay window, now devoid of Claudia’s things, before moving to peer over her shoulder. Trousers, tunics, and blouses. A few corsets and bodices are also present. I smile with satisfaction and return to the window seat as the woman works. I pull out one of the Dark Magic tomes and begin to study._ _ _ _

____The hours pass swiftly, and before I know it dusk is fast approaching. I get up, stretching my arms above my head with a small sound. Not long ago the maidservant placed a dress upon the bed, asking if I required her assistance. I waved her away and told her I would be fine alone. I peer at the ensemble. There is also a necklace of gold and delicate slippers set out to complete the look. I step over to the dress, lifting it up and holding it against my form. It’s a deep shade of red, dark and rusty like day old blood. Gold trim adorns the low cut collar, and rings circle the ends of the sleeves. A simple leather belt also lays upon the bed next to a silken chemise._ _ _ _

____I sigh with exasperation, but keep Viren’s words in mind. He wishes that I dress the part of the noblewomen adviser? Fine, I shall. This dress is the simplest to date they have presented to me, and trying to fetch another at so late an hour would be futile. I strip out of my old clothes and begin the process of donning the dress. The laces are by far the hardest part, and for a moment I contemplate calling for help. But after a brief moment of struggle I finally tighten the laces and tie them off in a small bow at the base of my spine. One pair of slippers, a necklace, and reapplied kohl later I am presentable._ _ _ _

____I glance at myself in the mirror, worrying my lip between my teeth so the increased blood flow might make them redder. I snatch the smallest knife I own out of the chest I hid my supplies in, and slip it into the bottom of my sleeve. Better to be prepared. With a flourish of my skirts, I exit the room. Before I infiltrated the castle, I studied it extensively from blueprints I acquired from the castle stonemason. He wasn’t too hard to bribe, especially after I got a few drinks into him. With the simple lie that I was a traveling architect and a few meads, he spilled his resources readily. With this knowledge on hand I easily make my way through the halls. I reach the doors to the throne room swiftly, and await the guard to announce me. I square my shoulders, and raise my chin, acting every bit like the noblewomen I am meant to be._ _ _ _

____“Lady Feryth Lauthien!” the guard exclaims as the doors open before me._ _ _ _

____I stalk forward, hands resting delicately atop the other in front of my navel, elbows slightly away from my body. My dress whispers across the floor as I make my way inside the room. Viren turns, his face a stoic slab of stone. He moves to meet me partway, bowing his head with a soft, “Lady Lauthien.”_ _ _ _

____I bob a small curtsey, the very picture of decorum. If Viren is impressed at my acting skills he does not show it, merely gazing at me in that piercing way of his. “Lord Viren,” I say, adding a melodious lilt to my voice, aware of the eyes of the guard. “I was terribly surprised to receive your summons tonight, please pardon my simple attire, I was not expecting this!” I mock pleasant surprise._ _ _ _

____“It is no matter,” he answers, “it was on short notice.” Say what you will about the man, he acts very well. I’m rather impressed in fact. But it is to be expected, especially from a man of his stature, and one who so often chooses to speak in honeyed words._ _ _ _

____“Let us take a turn about the room, shall we? Some light exercise before your big moment yes? To calm the nerves.” I suggest, batting my eyelashes prettily. Viren opens his mouth to reply, but is abruptly interrupted._ _ _ _

____“Actually, hate to break this up by the way, it looks a lot like a bonding moment, so, my bad. But, dad they’re ready for you in the King’s Chambers,” a male voice says from behind me. I turn to identify the source and am pleasantly surprised to find a handsome face staring back at me. Playful cornflower blue eyes meet mine, and a lazy smile paints the man’s face. He runs a hand through his dirty blonde hair and says, “Well dad? It’s almost time; Crown time. Or as I like to call it Crown Hour… Crown-o-Clock?” He smiles goofily. I let out and undignified snort, despite my better judgment. His smile widens and he gives me a conspiratory wink. Viren just sighs and shoots me a sharp look before he begins walking._ _ _ _

____The guards open the doors for him, and blondie shoots me a small frown. We follow after him, lagging slightly behind. “Hey,” blondie says, “I’m Soren. I don’t think we’ve met. You must be Feryth. My sister told me all about you.”_ _ _ _

____I raise a brow at him. “Is that so?”_ _ _ _

____Soren laughs. “Ohhh yeah, wouldn’t stop gushing. She said you were the coolest mage she ever met. Not that I know anything about that.” He strikes a pose, flexing his arms. “Ahhh, yep, I’m more into physical things, like fighting, exercise, more fighting. Ever need some training, I’m your guy!” He winks at me. “Especially for pretty ladies.”_ _ _ _

____Viren lets out an exasperated sigh and falls back to walk with us, looping his arm within mine. I’m rather surprised at the motion, but I suppose keeping up the image that I am here for him is important. “Enough Soren. Lady Lauthien and I are to discuss important matters,” he says, with slight venom._ _ _ _

____Soren deflates a little, but he acquiesces to his father’s demands, moving a respectable distance ahead of us. I rest my hand against Viren’s forearm and match the pace he has set. Despite claiming to need to speak with me, Viren is decidedly silent. “You know,” I say, breaking the silence, “he’s just a boy. There is no need to be so harsh.”_ _ _ _

____Viren gives me a sidelong look filled with displeasure. “He is not yet completely an adult, true, but he passed the age for this behavior long ago. He must be firm, strong, and calculating. He must show no weakness. Instead, he acts if nothing is sacred, and never takes anything seriously,” he replies._ _ _ _

____“So you wish for him to be like you?” I ask._ _ _ _

____“If nothing else, yes.”_ _ _ _

____I sigh. “I don’t know about that. He’s his own person. Just because he is your son doesn’t mean he has to be the mirror image of you. I’m sure he takes some things seriously, those that matter to him,” I say._ _ _ _

____Viren raises an eyebrow at me. “And you are the authority on adolescent behavior are you? You hold great wisdom about the ways of children, _human _children?” There is a bite to his words, his tone condescending.___ _ _ _

______I glower at him, bristling at his words. “Not three years ago I entered adulthood, so yes, I would hope I remember how I felt at that age. And does pointing out my mixed heritage bring you joy? Do you like acting superior to me?” I hiss, watching in pleasure as Viren registers my words with a shocked expression._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You are only twenty-one?” he asks, disregarding my questions._ _ _ _ _ _

______I ignore him and continue my line of thought, “In fact, be glad he isn’t like you. You’ve got the biggest stick up your arse, it’s hard to see how you can walk.” With that I disentangle my arm from his, lifting my skirts and moving to catch up with Soren. I hear Viren make a strangled sound of surprise and outrage, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it very much. A satisfied and utterly prideful smirk paints my face the rest of the way to the late King’s chambers._ _ _ _ _ _

______When we finally reach the doors, Viren is quickly swept away by servants who hurriedly outfit him in a pair of ceremonial robes. I do not currently wish to be in his presence, so I study the room. It’s still in terrible disarray from the night of the assassination, with destroyed furniture, ripped tapestry’s, and broken arrows piled around the room. I sweep the room for familiar faces. Claudia is here, speaking with Viren, a look of concern on her face, Soren debriefs a pair of guards, and a woman with pristine white robes lurks near the balcony doors. A parrot, likely from Xadia judging by its exotic feather color, sits dejectedly in a cage._ _ _ _ _ _

______I walk to the doors of the balcony, watching as people mill about in the courtyard below. There are hundreds of them, and it’s hard to fathom that this isn’t even a quarter of the population of Katolis. So many people, lost without a king. It’s almost sad, but the old king knew of his consequences when he killed the Dragon King. How long he must have waited in fear for the day someone would come to slit his throat. I suppose monarchs might be used to attempts on their life though. A commotion of raised voices behind me catches my attention, drawing my gaze away from the courtyard below. Viren stands before the parrot, a condescending sneer on his face._ _ _ _ _ _

______“No song for the occasion, hmm?” he asks sweetly._ _ _ _ _ _

______The bird glares at him. A satisfied smirk paints his face at the silence. He sweeps past the bird, grabbing my hand and pulling me out onto the balcony. He releases me before he reaches the edge of the stone parapet, leaving me to stand behind his right shoulder. The woman in the white robes comes to stand behind his left. Viren begins his speech._ _ _ _ _ _

______“People of Katolis. King Harrow’s death has wounded us deeply, but the loss of his sons—our princes—is a greater injustice. By eliminating both heirs to the throne, our enemies sought to leave us without a leader,” he says, voice projecting over the crowd with ease. He raises his hands, palms up at his sides. He continues. “It would disgrace Harrow’s memory to allow the kingdom he loved to be lost in darkness.” The people begin to murmur amongst themselves at his words, and I watch as more than a few of them nod in agreement._ _ _ _ _ _

______Viren waits a moment for the commotion to die down before he speaks once more. “Though it is a heavy burden, I will humbly take up the battle in Harrow’s name. I will become Lord Protector of the realm,” hey says, turning to face the white robed woman and I, kneeling in the process. The crowd explodes. The woman steps forward, golden crown in hand, letting it hover above Viren’s head. I can see the hesitation on her face. Seconds pass, and she still does not move._ _ _ _ _ _

______“My lady, if you would-” my request is cut off by the distant sound of a horn. The woman jerks in surprise, a smile lighting up her face._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Opeli,” Viren growls out, but the woman shakes her head taking a step back. A voice rings out over the crowd._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Stop the coronation,” a male shouts, galloping in on his horse. A woman stops beside him, hands moving rapidly. “The princes are alive!” He finishes after she lowers them._ _ _ _ _ _

______Viren remains kneeled, but a scarlet flush paints his neck and ears. “Finish,” he commands the woman. She takes another step back and shakes her head at him. He snarls, springing up to look at the woman and man who just arrived, a feral sneer on his face. I frown deeply and sigh. Of course it couldn’t be so easy. I whirl around, skirts swishing violently, and head back inside, Viren hot on my heels. We’ve barely arrived in his study when he slams the door shut. I shake my head at his antics, moving to sit down in the chair near the window. I take out a knife, twirling it as I watch him seeth._ _ _ _ _ _

______Viren paces the floor, hands clasped behind his back, face beet red. He stops in front of his desk and places his palms down hard onto the wood. “That conniving witch!” He bellows. “She knew,” he continues, “Opeli must have known. Why else would she hesitate?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______I shrug at him, sitting comfortably in my chair, now picking idly at my nails with my dagger. I point it at him and say, “Maybe she just doesn’t like you.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______He snaps his head around and glares at me. I raise my hands up in defeat, returning to my previous action. Viren sighs and drops into his chair, resting his head in his hands. He rubs hard at his temples, staring at the wood in anger. “You know,” I say, waiting for him to glance in my direction before I continue, “I heard you can set things on fire if you stare at it hard enough. That table doesn’t stand a chance.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Gods,” Viren sighs out. He doesn’t say anything else, just silently wallows while continuing to stare at the table._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’ll take that as you liked my joke,” I say._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I didn’t.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______I sigh. “Viren, there is nothing we can currently do. I told you there was the possibility of them being alive and you would not have it. Obviously this elf doesn’t wish to kill them. Any assassin worth their salt would’ve killed them already.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______He raises his head out of his hands and looks at me with furrowed brows, but does not speak. I press on. “So, there must be a reason. I have a sneaking suspicion there is more to this story,” I say, standing up and walking over to the table. My skirts swish softly as I bend over, planting my hands in front of his. My dagger makes a dull sound as it clacks against the table._ _ _ _ _ _

______“What aren’t you telling me?” I question._ _ _ _ _ _

______Viren frowns at me deeply and says, “I am hiding nothing from you. I’ve already told you everything.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______I snarl and bring my face inches from his, my breath caressing his skin. “Don’t lie to me. You are hiding something, and I would like to know. Talk,” I hiss at him. His eyes harden at my words and he snarls right back. “I told you, I’m hiding _nothing _!”___ _ _ _ _ _

________My knife comes up to kiss his neck. He flinches back, and knicks his jaw, but the back of his chair prevents him from escaping. I press the blade into the flesh under his chin. “Did you forget,” I say, drawing the dagger across his skin, just light enough that it does not cut, “that I’m an assassin? In fact I have been since the tender age of fourteen. Did you truly ignore that little detail, my dear High Mage?” I scrape the blade across the edge of his beard._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Right here,” I say, “is a special spot. See, it won’t kill you, and you can still talk, but it would be terribly painful. You wouldn’t die for hours,” I look him in the eye, a lazy smile gracing my lips. His pupils are blown wide and his chest moves with quickened breath. “Did you know that your eyes dilate not only when you're experiencing pleasure, but when you’re afraid too?” I say with a smirk. Viren does not respond, throat bobbing against the knife as he swallows, hands clenching the edge of the table tightly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Yours are, right now in fact. Are you afraid Viren? Of little old me?” I coo at him softly. A low growl rumbles in his throat, but he does not dare speak for fear of touching my blade._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“So,” I venture, “Would you like to try telling me what you’re hiding again? I assure you, the answer is not “nothing”.” I move the knife away enough for him to speak._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He lets out a huff of breath, fiery anger burning in his eyes. “The princes took the Egg of the Dragon Prince with them.” I nearly drop my knife in surprise._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Truly!?” I exclaim. I move the knife fully off his neck, standing up straight, rocking back on the heels of my feet. Viren untenses, rubbing a hand across the trickle of blood that slips down his skin._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Yes,” he says, “I assumed the elf would kill them once she got far enough away, but it seems I was wrong.” He grimaces as he pokes at the cut on his jaw. He glares at me. I smile sheepishly, stepping in to examine the cut. His hand snaps out to grab his staff, but I only tut at him and take his face in my hands. I tilt his head up to see better, hand moving softly across his jaw. Viren sucks in a breath and sits stiff as a board at my touch._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“It’s not too bad,” I say, gently dabbing at the blood with the sleeve of my dress. “I’ve got some healing salve in my pack.” I release him, walking over to where I deposited the satchel I left earlier in the day. After a bit of rummaging I grab the glass bottle of salve. I drop the bag and return to Viren’s side._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Here,” I say, placing the jar in front of him. Viren grabs the jar and removes the cloth top. He applies it thinly over the wound, which stops bleeding immediately. Viren studies the slave with a critical eye. “What is this made of?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________I smile at him. “Some herbs, a xadian lizard’s tail that has regenerative abilities, beeswax, and a bit of my blood.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Your blood?” he questions._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Yes,” I say, “I learned a while back that using my own blood in dark magic spells not only enhances the effect, but also dampens the draw on yourself. My blood is not potent enough to take on Arcanum “properties”, if you will. I am connected to the Ocean Arcanum, and can do the most basic spells, but not enough for it to affect the dark magic.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Interesting,” he says, moving to hand over the salve. I shake my head and push it back toward him. “Keep it,” I say, “I’ll brew more later.” Viren looks at me sidelong, but withdraws the salve back to him nonetheless._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Now,” I say, moving to go sit in the chair I occupied earlier, “let us see what we can do about these princelings.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


End file.
